Prom Dreams
by VegetablesBasket
Summary: 17-year-old Once-ler gets his dream date to prom-Briony Regis, the prettiest girl in school. But is she really his dream date? Or would he rather go to prom with the woman who would least expect it? A Moncest/Mom-ler fic. Yes, it's a romance fic about the Once-ler and his mother. Incestuous themes. Don't like it? Don't read. :P


((Thanks for stopping by to check out this little fic. :) It's just a random thing I wrote, but I hope you enjoy it.

Yes, it has incestuous themes. Don't like it? Don't read. :P

Otherwise, enjoy, read, and review please! ^_^))

Briony Regis said "yes". She had actually said that wonderful, marvelous, magical word. One that I rarely ever heard from anyone, of course, but especially from the most beautiful girl in school. I could still hear distant chimes ringing in my ears as I skipped through the front door of the house, the tile beneath my feet light as air.

"Hey, guys! Guess what?" I exclaimed, my glance immediately falling upon my mom, slightly hunched over a coal black pot on the stove. Just the sight of her stopped me in my tracks. She had her usual pink apron tied tightly around her body, pinching her curves in all the right ways and her golden hair looked glistening even under the dull fluorescent light of the kitchen. She was so much prettier than Briony.

"Oncie? What is it?" she called out, though her eyes remained focused on whatever it was she was cooking in that pot.

I staggered into the kitchen, my exuberance replaced by a new sheepishness. "Oh, um. Well, it's not really _that_ big of a deal, I guess. Um. It's just that, uh..." I started, pulling at my right sleeve. "Well, I asked Briony to prom. And guess what she said?"

My mom finally bent her neck a bit so her eyes met mine, though only fleetingly before she returned her gaze to that stupid pot. "You asked _Briony_ to the prom? Briony Regis? Well, that was real stupid, honey. You should have known a girl like _that_ would say 'no'."

I flinched. Sometimes her words really felt like jagged swords been thrown my way, but the difference was, the physical gesture of flinching couldn't help me to dodge her words the way it could have with knives. "Uh, well. Interesting that you would say that 'cause...she actually said 'yes', Mom." Standing as tall as I could, I let a triumphant little grin slide across my face.

My mom was appropriately surprised. She finally had to pay attention to me. Full attention. Her eyes enlarged three times their usual size and her mouth wasn't much smaller as she turned her entire body away from the stove and instead in my direction. "She said 'yes'? But...how? Why?"

I tried my best to ignore the hurtful implications of her disbelief and kept a smooth confidence-even a bit of arrogance-in my voice as I replied, "Well, I don't know, Mom. Maybe she just has a thing for tall, lanky, super-talented-and-creative types."

"I _suppose_, but..." she started, biting her lip and looking to the gray tile of the floor.

"But what?"

"Well, it's just that...I don't want you to get your hopes up just to have them dashed, sweetie. I reckon Briony might just be playing some kind of prank on you, y'know? It'd be real mean, and she doesn't seem real mean, but I just can't think of any other reason she'd agree to go with you."

I froze in my spot, feeling the blood completely drain out of my already ashen face. "What? You...you think that little of me, Mom? You can't see any reason why a pretty girl would like me?"

She quickly shook her head. "No, that's not what I meant..."

"I think it's exactly what you meant! You think I'm ugly, unpopular, stupid. Just a loser, right, Mom?" I knew I was overreacting, at least a little, but I just couldn't stand it any longer.

Standing before me was the woman I loved, the woman I truly wanted more than any other, more than all the Brionies of the world put together. She was the only I had secretly longed to ask to prom for months now, as soon as the idea first bloomed inside my mind. Of course, I knew there was no way I could actually do it, but this reality didn't stop me from fantasizing day after day about what it would be like to take my mom to prom. But if she thought even Briony deserved better than me, then she certainly must have thought _she_ deserved better than me.

"Oncie, I don't think any of those things about you," my mom now said, unconvincingly. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. That's all."

"Well...you're a little too late for _that_, Mom," I spat back, turning on my heel and out of the kitchen with long, quick steps.

I couldn't believe my mom's reaction to what I thought was the most celebration-worthy news I had delivered in a long time. I thought that Briony's "yes" would have impressed her. I thought it would prove to her once and for all that I had something to offer in the way of being a legitimate romantic interest-maybe not to her, not yet anyway, but at least to _someone_. Someone pretty, poised, and popular. Someone like my mom herself.

But as I entered my room and collapsed on my bed, I began to realize that my mom would never see me that way. To her, I was just a goofy, awkward kid. More than that, I was _her _kid, so I shouldn't have ever expected her to return my bizarre affection for her.

Still, as I slowly but surely drifted asleep on my bed that night, I couldn't help but have another one of those dreams. I had been having them several times a week for months now. The dreams where my mom and I were attending my prom together.

In my dreams, she always has picked out the perfect dress, only the very best. It's usually pink, I think. Not a loud, obnoxious pink though. A Carnation pink. Very elegant. Long. And it hugs her body just as beautifully as her apron always did.

We drive there in a white-hot stretch limo, and she teasingly drinks champagne in front of me while knowing I can't indulge in the pleasure myself. I think, in real life, maybe she would offer me a couple sips from her glass though. Yeah, I think she would.

And then we dance together in that ornately-decorated ballroom, under the blinking sunshiny lights, my hands around her slim waist, hers around my neck...but this is always where my fantasy tends to end. Because as soon as I picture us there in the ballroom, I can't help but remember who else would be there. All the other kids in my class, the teachers, the chaperones...they would all ruin it. Completely ruin it.

So even my wildest dreams are often ruined by my unfortunate reality.

Ironically, my mom always called me a foolish dreamer. But I really wasn't all that good at dreaming or anything else for that matter. Except maybe getting my heart broken. Yeah, I guess I was pretty darn good at _that_.


End file.
